Once upon a time, a sparkly little girl came into this world radiating love and light. She came into a family of fear, perfectionism, and punishment. They nurtured her with all the love they could muster because she shined so bright in their darkened eyes.
But with her clear blue lens, she stroked their pain and she learned to be determined, defensive. Harsh. Afraid.
As she grew, they taught her more and more until she forgot about her home, about her light. They had forgotten to love themselves. They had forgotten that they were love. And so she forgot too.
They taught her how to survive, how to fight the world for what she wanted and believed in, how to punish herself so she could become perfect. They had all forgotten.
Her heart and her light – still just as big and bright underneath – were now tainted, hidden with walls and curtains. She did not remember that her light was everywhere and her walls were not needed. She could not remember her true self as Creator, as the Light, as Love, as One with all those around her.
Her mother embodied self-judgment. Her father could see only her actions. And so she became only as much as she accomplished.
These values and all the pressure made her appear wildly successful as she grew up. She aced exams, became a leader, and filled up her time helping everyone around her breathe in their light.
She could see all their light.
But meanwhile, she held a hard plate of judgment against her own forehead.
As adulthood neared, she met a young man. He had forgotten also. They had told him he was unlovable.
But he loved her.
She could see the glow dripping from his soul. And so she tried to drown him in love, in more light. She tried desperately to show him he was worthy. She did not understand that she could not force him to drink his own light, to be his own love.
Years passed as she held his head, kept him breathing, gave him hope.
Her light was still there.
She dug her light so deeply as she tried to wipe the soot away from his.
Each time he relapsed, she felt less worthy. Less effective. Less perfect. And so the plate against her forehead grew heavier.
Then one day, her light screamed to let him go. She was giving him everything – even her very breath.
Then another day soon, he was gone.
The phone rang. The tears came. A spoon formed in her throat, shoveling darkness out of her. The plate cracked with weight against her forehead.
More tears. More trembling. More fear. More cruelty. More pain. So much more pain.
She could barely stand it.
She was just trying to love herself again and so she had let go…and she lost him.
A shiny new knife lurched in her heart.
She became very busy once again. Pleasing everyone. Loving everyone. Holding them so tight. Her knuckles burned. Her blood boiled.
But she became everyone’s perfect.
And so her light was choked. Starving.
Her heart seared with self-hatred of anything that did not fit the perfect image she had created.
This brutality invaded every part of her life because she knew deep down she was never going to be that bulletproof version of perfection.
She tried to be so strong so she could hold everyone up to the light she saw in their souls. While she stayed deep in the darkness.
Her body groaned and withered under the wrath of self-punishment. Her mind muttered sickening mantras with every breath.
A couple of years went by and suddenly, she found her exterior broken again.
This time, the hardened plate cracked and shattered away – more pain. More spoons shoveling. So much more pain.
But suddenly she could breathe again. She began to glow again. She continued to nurture everyone, but she began to nurture herself a little bit more.
Then one day, a beautiful glowing Fairy God Mother found her.
She gently removed the spoon and eased the tension against the girl’s forehead.
Kindness. Worthiness. Relief.
She taught the girl to speak foreign words as she walked until they became familiar.
“I am blessed. I am a blessing.”
The girl began to feel her own light again until one day she realized she was never really broken.
She had just covered herself up believing in false stuff. Neglected. Starving.
Her Fairy God Mother helped her find her way to a path. One with no plates or spoons or mixers or knives or perfect people. One with so much lightness and fire and air to breathe. One with water like crystal. One with soil of shining green and gold. One with space.
The girl found a practice where she began blending her individual light with a Light so great and big and beyond what she had ever experienced before. They call this practice Yoga.
Yoga showed her the great Light she was getting to know so well, and had truly always known and seen, was actually hers.
And it was everyone’s also.
As she allowed that Light to flow through her, gifts began pouring from her. Her essence was fiery, passionate.
Her Fairy God Mother told her she was a Truth-Seer: this was her greatest gift.
She realized she only knew one Truth – the Light – the Life that awoke each Spirit into each tiny body and mind.
The girl saw Truth everywhere she went and in everyone she met.
One day, she found herself called to a place full of powerful energy and love and clarity. And so she went to it.
In this place, the girl learned to teach this practice called Yoga to other people. She guided them through moving meditations, but more importantly, she began to show them how to become Seers of Truth as well:
The ones they were long ago. Before they chose their little bodies, opened their tiny eyes, and all forgot. She watched them rediscover themselves: Light Workers, Healers, Guides: re-awakening unique colors of the Light.
She began to see the more she shared her journey with others, the more they began to find their way along theirs: the more they began to see their own Light – the Light she could always see so clearly in them.
Soon, she realized she had wings. She was not of this world.
And so Laura Marie began to die. Over and over again.
As her blood still coursed, cooled.
As food still nourished her healthy body, rejuvenated.
As rest still beckoned her, stillness.
Laura Marie died as her soul began to breathe fully. As she returned to love. As she realized she was love. As she tasted freedom from form.
So she chooses now to learn and grow and teach and thrive in this dream.
And now she whispers to herself and the trees,
Freed as We are freedom.
Breathe as We are air.
Flow as We are water.
Create as We are earth.
Glow as We are the light.
Sparkle in Our hands…
Love as We are God.
Namaste, Laura (Luna) Marie XO